


Ruined

by gel_s_d



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), BDSM, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Edgeplay, Edging, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 14:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20967932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gel_s_d/pseuds/gel_s_d
Summary: Aziraphale accidentally ruins Crowley and realizes some things





	Ruined

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is the only thing I’m going to write about lol

Aziraphale has been teasing Crowley for a straight hour. He hasn’t even taken him out of his jeans, hand wedged inside as he just rubbed him, lips sucking on the spot just under his ear. When he wasn’t sucking a very commendable bruise into the side of his neck, his mouth was running wild, hot against Crowley’s ear.

“Are you close already?” He chided softly, but did not cease his rubbing, “look at you, so sensitive. I can feel how desperate you are, absolutely _pulsing_-“

“Angel-“ his voice was strained, fingers gripping at jacket fabric, body writhing and fighting the urge to buck wildly, knowing it wouldn’t help him whatsoever. Not when his hand wasn’t even _gripping_ him, just rubbing indecently over him, fingertips catching his sensitive head. Aziraphale was pressed against his side, sitting with him on his couch in the back room, leg crossed and slung over Crowley’s knee, holding his leg open as he simply felt him.

“Is it too much dear?” He said with his lips pressed against his skin, and Crowley couldn’t handle it any longer.

“No, no, n- please- fuck-!” he whined, hips stuttering as he began to spill, Crowley’s cock twitching up to find stimulation and finding none. Crowley’s whole body flushed bright red, and aziraphale frozen in shock, gasping quietly as he felt the sparse few drips spread over his hand and the fabric it was jammed into. Crowley let out a little, dejected ‘_fuck_’, head thrown back and panting softly. It felt like he was still impossibly hard but no way to release after so harshly ruining his orgasm. He let out a small whimper, head lolling as Aziraphale extracted his hand from the tight jeans, feeling quiet flustered.

“I apologize, dear,” he murmured after a few moments, but he didn’t feel exactly sorry. In fact, feeling much better about ruining his poor dear than he imagined he would. “You did _so _good for me,” he praised softly, clean hand reaching to pet at his hair. Crowley could only look up at him, pained, face flushed, and then conceded to rub his head against the gentle hand.

—

The next day, Crowley didn’t come. Instead Aziraphale sent him home, citing that he needed to have some peace and quiet to do some reorganizing. He did get to spend some time eating Aziraphale’s cunt out, still in bed before having to leave. Having to leave so soon after that, of course, caused Crowley to spiral internally, only briefly visible before he was all cool again, leaving with a quick kiss and a promise to himself to take it out on his plants when he got home.

Of course that display would have put a rift between them. He had _ruined_ in his _pants_, Aziraphale had barely been touching him. It doesn’t get more embarrassing than that. Of course Aziraphale sent him home after that.

What he didn’t expect was a phone call not long at all after he arrived home, a phone call from the angel himself. With a confused look, Crowley picked up the phone.

“Aziraphale?” He answered.

“Ah, hello, Crowley,” came the bright reply. He could hear a smile on his lips.

“Did I forget something?” He didn’t mean for it to come out harshly, he was feeling quite embarrassed after all, and Aziraphale cleared his throat over the line.

“No- no you didn’t forget something,” he started, “I was actually calling about something else,” he sounded proud, and it made Crowley just a bit angrier.

“Well, what is it?”

“I want you to do something for me. I promise you’ll enjoy this,” he added quickly, before Crowley could goad him more. Crowley didn’t respond verbally, but stood there, mouth hanging open slightly as he waited for whatever Aziraphale was trying to stretch out. “You’re going to-“ Crowley was a little shocked at the sudden authoritative voice, “-bring yourself to the edge of orgasm eight times for me today.”

Crowley’s heart nearly stopped. He squeezed the phone tighter and inhaled sharply. He couldn’t find his voice immediately, stammering out nothing.

“And you’re not allowed to come on the eighth,” He heard on the other side, voice clipped and distant. Crowley knew the difference between real disdain and Aziraphale’s own flavor of dominance. This was definitely the latter. “And once you’re done, we can go out for dinner. Is that agreeable, dear boy?”

“Y-yes, yeah, agreeable,” he managed out, throat hardly letting him get the words out, nodding although no body could see him. Certainly agreeable. Aziraphale hummed approvingly and they exchanged their goodbyes and once again Crowley was alone in his own flat. He stared at the phone for a few moments. Maybe minutes, he wasn’t sure. At least things made more sense now.

This was all apart of Aziraphale’s cruel games, his perpetual denial of giving Crowley what he had always been so clearly asking. Even in their (relatively new) relationship, Aziraphale tended to have an affinity for copious amounts of teasing, often leaving Crowley hot and bothered somewhere inconvenient, hard or wet -depending on his mood - and wanting so much. Crowley thought he got off on being needed so much, to have so much of an effect over him. He probably wasn’t far off, and fuck knows that it works. Crowley was hard as rock in his jeans at the command - and you could hardly call the tone commanding.

He was able to tear himself out of his shock, slamming the phone down with more force than strictly necessary and almost jogged to his bedroom, clothing disappearing with a thought as he crossed the threshold of the bedroom door. He was grateful for the pressure release on his cock, cursing himself in the back of his head at his own fashion choices.

He was on the bed fast, face down as he ground his hips into his hand which wedged between himself. He couldn’t hold back a groan as he rubbed, face pressing into the pillows as he ground down, thoughts immediately turning to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale, his angel, sitting on his hips and rocking back and forth, hand on his chest as he looked down at him. His fantasy Aziraphale was making desperate little noises, which caught real life Crowley by surprise as he quickly neared the edge must faster than he intended. The angel really did things to him, much more effectively than he’d like to admit. He quickly removed his hand, pulling it from underneath himself, hips raising as he tried to avoid all contact to his cock. He gripped at the sheets, groaning into the pillow. He panted softly, pulling himself away from the edge. One down, seven to go.

He flipped over to continue the rest of them, hand circling his cock as he slowly worked himself back up again, arm thrown over his eyes as he let his mind run wild again. He even went back not 24 hours ago, where Aziraphale _ruined_ him. He didn’t know if it was intentional or not, based on this new, _exciting_ information clicking into place about what really gets Aziraphale off. He didn’t care if it was, it was an incredible turn on. It made him ache to think about the feeling of being ruined, having his come ripped out of him as he was given just enough sensation to push him over.

The thought had him ripping his hand off his cock, gasping and hips jerking forward to chase the feeling of his own hand. He grit his teeth, head thrown back against the pillows, groaning lowly. His cock jerked sadly, dripping precum onto his stomach, and he dug his own fingernails into the skin of his hip. God, it was infuriating, and it was only the second one.

It was another 2 hours before he was able to complete Aziraphale’s request. By this point, he had two fingers inside of his ass, cock red and straining as he took his hand away one final time. He was drenched in sweat, fingers white-knuckle gripping at sheets. He almost couldn’t do it on this last run, nearly coming into his hand at the thought of Aziraphale deep inside of him, fucking him face down into the mattress. He had really let his fantasies dial up as he got closer and closer to the point of no return. As it turns out, eight seemed to be the magic number, as Crowley didn’t know if he could have made it a ninth time.

He lay there, vaguely aware of the impending responsibility of taking Aziraphale out on a date after he’s finally unwrecked himself enough to stand again. Which would probably be quite awhile from this point. With some major effort, he stood, starting to get ready for their date.


End file.
